


One with Nature

by DreaminginCabeswater



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreaminginCabeswater/pseuds/DreaminginCabeswater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cabeswater's demands are getting out of control, and the latest one has Adam reeling... and everyone else laughing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One with Nature

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot inspired by a picture of Adam in a lovely sweater. 
> 
> The Raven Boys and Blue do not belong to me, they belong to Maggie Stiefavater.

“You want to borrow my… _what_?”

 

Adam heard the disbelief in Blue’s words, and he could almost imagine the look she gave to the phone receiver over at 300 Fox Way: sparkling eyes, wide and amused, lips quirked into an impish smile, little button nose scrunched up.

 

Adam’s cheeks burned in embarrassment.

 

“You heard me,” Adam replied.

 

“Are you sure _you_ heard Cabeswater correctly?” Blue asked, trying to restrain from laughing. She didn’t succeed.

 

Adam sighed. “Trust me, Blue, if I had heard anything else, I would be happily out doing that instead.”

 

Blue stifled another chuckle. “Oooookay. I’ll go see what I have. Hold on.”

 

Blue placed the phone on table in the phone/sewing/cat room. Adam heard her bellow a warning to the household: “DON’T TOUCH THE PHONE!… BECAUSE I’M ON IT… NOT AT THIS SECOND, BUT… DON’T YOU DARE…”

 

Blue’s voice trailed off as she traipsed to her room.

 

Adam glanced to the line of tarot cards at his side next to a shimmering pool of dark liquid. Adam fought back the urge to knock the bowl over. His frustration levels were reaching nuclear proportions, and Cabeswater didn’t know when to stop pushing.

 

Spoiled brat came to mind when Adam thought of Cabeswater. Cabeswater had taken to waking Adam up at all hours of the night to move a tiny twig or a pebble, forcing him to leave during lunch to move a stray leaf, and whispering to him while in class about bringing the magical mice mushrooms. It all baffled Adam, but this latest demand caused him to reel. It was almost like Cabeswater was pulling a prank on him.

 

Finally, the other end of the phone receiver rustled.

 

“Adam?”

 

“Blue?”

 

“Good news. I have what you need.”

 

Adam could hear Blue smirking all the way across the phone.

 

“Don’t smirk,” Adam said.

 

Blue doubled over into a full laugh. When she finished, she said breathless, “Come by later tonight.”

 

“I’m so glad this amuses you,” Adam said rolling his eyes. “And Blue? Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone else.” Adam knew that Gansey would be proud, but Ronan and Noah would never let him live it down.

 

“Cross my heart,” Blue said through controlled giggles.

 

Adam hung up the phone with a thud.

 

***

 

Later that evening, after a four hour shift at the garage, but before the three hour shift at the factory, Adam parked his crumpled car outside 300 Fox Way. He stared at the psychic sign outside the door. Adam wondered what his life would be like if he had never met Blue or gotten involved in Gansey’s quest for Glendower. He thought back to the trailer and pain and anxiety and suffering. Adam shook his head. This little task paled in comparison to his old life. He shut off the car and stumbled to the front door, fatigue covering him from head to toes.

 

Adam rapped on the door, a quick _knock, knock, knock_. He heard a shuffle of movement, yelling, and general chaos. Behind the door, Adam heard Blue bark, “NO! I’LL GET IT! BACK OFF ORLA! I SWEAR TO GOD…”

 

The door pulled open to reveal a fashionably disheveled Blue. Her dark hair sticking out every which way, adorned with small neon hair clips, a long tie-dyed shirt-dress thing, accented with feathers, beads and other sparkly items, hit just above her knees where torn, black tights started. Her bare feet showed toenails that matched her top.

 

“Hey, come in.” Blue opened the door wider to let Adam into the jumbled mess of 300 Fox Way.

 

He followed her around squawking children sprawled on the floor with board games, dolls, and marbles. _Did anyone ever sleep in this house?_ He slid by over-sized furniture in undersized hallways. He exchanged greetings and climbed up the stairs.

 

Once in Blue’s room, she reached into an open dresser drawer and pulled out a brown paper sack, the top rolled down.

 

“I figured you would want to be inconspicuous,” Blue said, thrusting the bag in Adam’s direction.

 

“Thanks,” Adam muttered, taking the bag and opening it.

 

He peered in and shuddered.

 

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Blue said, the corner of her lips twisting up.

 

“Easy for you to say.” Adam twisted the bag closed again and tucked it under his arm.

 

“Adam, this is the 21st century. You can wear what you want without being ashamed.” Blue crossed her arms across her chest, jutted her chin to the sky, and stood on her tip toes, trying to make herself look bigger, more important. “And, too, it’s one of my own creations.”

 

Adam closed his eyes and shook his head. He wondered if she made said creation when she was five, but he smiled anyways.

 

“Big difference here Blue,” Adam said. “I don’t want to wear this.”

 

“It’s not like Cabeswater wants you to prance around Aglionby in it. Just put it on, go fix the ley line, and take it off. Simple as that.”

 

Blue had a point, but Adam was still frustrated with Cabeswater’s temper tantrum and he didn’t want to let it get off the hook so easily.

 

Adam sighed in defeat. “True.” He wiggled the bag in her direction. “Thanks for the help.”

 

“Anytime,” Blue said, spinning toward the door.

 

Adam followed, maneuvering the obstacle course that is 300 Fox Way, until he stood on the porch under a yellow light surrounded by a small cloud of flying insects.

 

“Just remember,” Blue said leaning on the front door. “You are a strong, independent man. There is nothing wrong with pink… or flowers.”

 

Adam saluted Blue and trudged to his car.

 

He tossed the bag into the passenger seat and peered at his watch. He had just enough time to get to the factory. Cabeswater would have to wait until after his shift.

 

***

 

“Yeah, see you later,” Adam called to a co-worker leaving the factory.

 

Settling back into his car, Adam flung his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for eight hours straight, but, of course, Cabeswater was waiting. He hated to think what the next task would contain if he made it wait any longer.

 

With a great exhalation of breath that made his lips flap, Adam started the car and drove toward Cabeswater.

 

Once outside the mystical forest, Adam cut a sideways glance at the bag in the passenger seat.

 

“Are you sure you need me to do this?” Adam asked Cabeswater.

 

No reply, which meant he understood correctly.

 

Adam snatched the bag from the seat and exited the car. He opened the paper bag and pulled out Blue’s sweater. Large cotton-candy pink and lilac-colored roses dotted the periwinkle blue sweater. Each rose’s center sparkled with a rainbow of jewels and under each flower was stitched on green feathers for leaves. Adam snarled up his nose at the atrocity. He just didn’t get Blue’s fashion sense, but then again he didn’t get anyone’s fashion sense.

 

“It’s just for one night, Parrish. You can do this,” he whispered to himself. “At least it isn’t nudity Cabeswater wants.” Adam cocked his eyes up thinking that might have been better than this.

 

Adam pulled off his grimy work shirt and pulled on Blue’s sweater. On Blue the sweater probably grazed her knees, but on Adam, it barely concealed his torso. A cool breeze tickled where the fabric failed to cover. The sleeves fell at his elbows, and hindered his movement. He hoped he didn’t rip the sweater during tonight’s task. He really didn’t want to have to buy her a new one, and he doubted anything could replace this work of art.

 

Under the full moon, Adam caught a glimpse of himself in the car window. His cheeks burned red and the sight pulled a laugh from him.

 

“At least Ronan isn’t here,” Adam muttered to himself. “He would never let me live this down.”

 

Adam crossed the boundary into Cabeswater. It was a lazy, sunny, spring afternoon. The sky painted the same color as his sweater. He could hear the trees rustling over him, and he swore they were laughing at him, mocking him. Adam grunted.

 

Adam hiked toward the spot where the ley line wanted help, following the thrumming under his skin. At the loudest spot, Adam stopped. Before him sat a pile of rose plants, each one a different color, some colors Adam knew no names for. They were mangled and bruised. He knew instantly that Cabeswater wanted him to plant them.

 

He immediately got to work. Digging, burying, planting, pruning. Adam didn’t know how much time had passed, but his body was limp and sore, and fatigue had extended into exhaustion. He sat back on his knees, dirt piled under his fingernails, drying mud on his face, dirt and grass ground into the now ripped floral sweater - _Maybe Gansey knows a good dry cleaner_ \- and admired his work. The ley line was already sounding better, healthier. The battered roses started to grow and heal before his eyes.

 

“Okay Cabeswater,” Adam said, standing and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Can I go to bed now?”

 

Silence.

 

Adam sighed with relief and headed back to the car. His mind buzzed and his muscles ached with the day. He pictured himself taking a hot shower and crawling into bed, letting the pleasant warmth of sleep overtake him.

 

“Oomph.” Adam crashed into a tall, solid figure, lost in his wishful thinking. The impact forced him to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs.

 

“Parrish?” asked a familiar voice.

 

Adam looked up and groaned. He covered his eyes with his hands, hoping this was just a nightmare.

 

“Parrish, what the hell are you doing out here?” Ronan Lynch asked, standing above him, one hand stuck out offering assistance off the ground.

 

“Fixing the ley line,” Adam muttered from between his hands. Adam refused to look or move.

 

Adam could feel Ronan’s gaze traveling over him.

 

_3_ _…_

_2_ _…_

_1_ _…_

 

Ronan’s laughter echoed through the trees. Adam peeked at Ronan through split fingers. Ronan gripped his stomach with one arm as laughter racked his body.

 

Through the great guffaws, Ronan asked, “What the hell are you wearing Parrish?”

 

“A sweater,” Adam mumbled through his hands.

 

No helping it now. Adam stood up, and Ronan’s laughter intensified.

 

“Did you get that shit-ugly sweater from a fucking fashion-phobic pygmy?” Ronan asked, breathy, his words barely coherent over the laughter.

 

“Blue,” Adam admitted.

 

Ronan laughed even harder. His face turned a fine shade of red that reminded Adam of his Coca-Cola shirt. He laughed until he couldn’t breathe, and he fell to the ground holding his sides. When he finally stopped laughing, he wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and blew out a gust air meant to steady him.

 

“Are you done?” Adam asked, staring down at Ronan, hands on his hips.

 

Ronan bit his lip trying, in vain, not to laugh again. He nodded.

 

“If you’re done, I’m exhausted and need sleep. Good night.” Adam started to walk away.

 

“Night, Grandma,” Ronan called from behind him.

 

Adam groaned, but kept walking to his car, Ronan’s roaring laughter started up again, echoing in his ear. He knew Ronan would never let him live this down, and Ronan didn’t disappoint.

 

For the next two weeks, a package wrapped in floral wrapping paper with a delicate bow, addressed to, “Grandma Parrish,” appeared outside his apartment door every morning. Inside was a perfect replica of Blue’s sweater. Adam shrugged, thinking that at least now he didn’t have to buy Blue a new sweater.


End file.
